You Break It, You Buy It
by Purrfect iNSaNiTY
Summary: Zacharie had begun tagging along with the Batter wherever he went, helping him purify the zones. That is, until three days ago. Then the masked merchant disappeared, splitting off from him while in Zone Three. Will have many a sadness
1. Chapter Zero

You sat there in the dark, gleaming cave, your breathing shaky. The cat that had kept you company these last few days was no where to be found, and you didn't spend much time wondering where he had gone. Instead, you glanced at your wrist, not looking at your watch, but the dark red liquid that was coursing through your veins, slowly becoming a disgusting black color. Just a little longer. You only had to wait a little longer. You prayed to whatever god there was that he wouldn't find you like this, not until you completely turned. Then he could kill you, he could purify you, as long as he didn't know it was you.  
You laughed to yourself weakly, "Just a little longer, _mon chéri._ Just hold on a little longer, and you won't have to suffer," you told the air, hoping that your friend hadn't purified Zone Three just yet, that he wouldn't find you until it was too late, and you were too far gone to be recognized. That way, no one would have to suffer, he would think that you had chosen to move on, to another place, to another world, or even perhaps another dimension.  
This wasn't supposed to happen. You knew you weren't suppose to die until he had purified the world. But it would be at his hands. And it would pain him, he would fight you, you would die, and it would pain him so much. _I suppose it's better this way..._ you think to yourself, _He won't have to suffer, he'll kill me, without ever knowing it was me._  
And you hoped to the god, or gods, if they existed, you were right.


	2. Chapter One

The puppet wandered aimlessly, searching for his friend. He had disappeared, splitting off from him in Zone Three, while purifying the sugar factories.  
That was three days ago. Normally, he wouldn't see the masked merchant for days at a time, but ever since he had started tagging along with him after beating Japhet in Zone Two, his disappearance had been a rare occurrence, he rarely left the puppet's side for more than a few hours.  
This puppet's name was The Batter. He, along with his three silent, circular companions that he seemed to be collecting throughout each zone, spent their time purifying specters and killing the corrupted guardians of each zone. Currently, however, he was searching for his missing friend.  
He had looked everywhere, even the zones he had already purified. He was surprised to find rather strong creatures called "secretaries" in the now barren, white wastelands, but aside from those strange adversaries, his friend was nowhere to be found.  
Now, he was riding a white, feathered pedalo to the rocky shores of Zone Four, hoping he could find him here. This blue land was riddled with caves and was a beautiful place, but aside from the seagulls, no one really lived here. Upon dismounting the pedalo as the puppet reached the shore, he were greeted with the usual panoramic view, including a title that clearly read "Zone Four." After saving at the red save block, he started walking along the shore, finding a chest filled with credits, and eventually coming across a huge cave. Figuring this was the best place to start looking, he entered the large maw of the cave.

The Batter was immediately immersed in darkness, glad that the glow from his Add-Ons was enough for him to see a small distance ahead of him. He walked through the dim halls, doing his best not to bump into stalactites and trip over stalagmites. After a few minutes of blindly stumbling around in the dark, a curt meow alerted him to the presence of his feline friend, The Judge.  
"Hello Batter, it seems we meet again. I hope you do not expect me to be quite so friendly, though he was taken over by the firebird Japhet, I can't exactly call you my friend after you murdered my dear brother," The Judge spoke, telling him of the current situation their friendship was in. Batter thought for a moment, wondering if he would lose the cat as a guide. Though he didn't really need him, The Judge had been quite helpful throughout his travels.  
As if reading his mind, the cat spoke again, "However, do not take this to mean I will no longer be there to guide you. I may not appear as frequently, but I will still leap in and help if I deem it necessary."  
The Batter nodded, glad he would not lose the cat's help.  
"Now, if I am correct, I believe you are looking for the masked merchant?" This inquiry caught Batter's full attention, he had been searching for what seemed like forever.  
"He has told me that he does not wish to see you, or rather, that he does not want you to see him. Says that it would be better that way. Though I don't enjoy going against my friend's wishes, I will take you to him, as I believe it would be in his best interest, even if it is not in yours. That is, of course, if you still wish to see him."  
Choosing his words carefully, he nodded, "Yes, I would appreciate if you would take me to him."  
The Judge nodded, and after a quick groom of the paw, he stood up, and ordered, "Follow me," and bounded off into the depths of the cave.  
The cat was fast, too fast for the Batter to catch up, and after a while he was once again walking blind. One of his speechless comrades, Epsilon, seemed to know where to go, taking the lead, serving as both a guide and a lantern.  
When he finally caught up with The Judge, he was grooming himself atop a large root sticking out from the glittering cave wall.  
He hadn't noticed on his journey through the cave, as he was more focused on catching up with his feline guide, but as he ran deeper into the cave, the walls slowly gained a beautiful glitter. There were all sorts of jewels and gems hiding within the stone walls, and the farther you went in, the more beautiful the cave became.  
The Judge's purr-filled voice snapped him out of his awed trance, "Well, you've finally caught up with me. Beautiful isn't it?"  
"Where's Zacharie?" the puppet questioned, wanting to finally talk to his missing friend and finding no time for pleasantries.  
The Judge rolled onto his back and yawned, "So demanding. Well, so be it. Your cat-loving friend is not much farther, walk past the first entrance, take two lefts and a right, then keep going until you find a beam with a burned-out lantern hanging from it. He shouldn't be far from there. Do try to hurry, as I fear he may not have much time left."  
"Thanks," The Batter replied, not bothering to ask why the cat couldn't go with him, perhaps it was to avoid angering his friend by leading the purifier to him when he had specifically asked him to not allow him near him. It didn't matter, as long as he remembered the directions he had been given, he should come across Zacharie sooner or later.  
Skip the first entrance, two lefts, one right, find the burnt out lantern, then hopefully find Zacharie. Seems simple enough.  
After a few minutes of wandering through the rough-walled hallways however, he wasn't so sure. There were so many twists and turns in the bath that he had no idea whether or not he was going the right way any more. Eventually, he did come across an opening in the left cave wall. Remembering the directions he had been given, he ignored it, instead going to the one right after it. Not too long after, there was another twist in the path, and another opening afterwards. However, Judge had said two lefts, _then_ a right, so he ignored that as well, as it was on the right wall, not the left. Finding the next entrance way, he walked through it, keeping his bat ready in case he encountered any specters, or other hostile adversaries. A few more twists and turns later, as well as nearly impaling himself on a stalagmite, he found the next place he needed to go.  
The path got much more difficult to traverse, if Zacharie had really wanted to hide himself, he had certainly done a good job. There were many more twists and turns in the path, the pillars of mineral now served as bars that he had to squeeze through, sometimes feeling as if it were a miracle he hadn't become a two dimensional object going through them. Eventually, he found the burnt out lantern the cat had spoken of, and The Batter breathed a sigh of relief, his journey was almost over. His relief was short lived, however, as he soon came across a fork in the path. That was odd, had The Judge neglected to mention this? Or had he simply forgotten? No, the wise old cat never forgot anything. Was he testing him? Seeing if he truly cared for the masked merchant? It was a cruel game to play, but it seemed to be the most likely of the options, and he silently cursed him for it. Still, if it _was_ a test, he would certainly attempt to pass it.  
Epsilon moved to help, but Batter shook his head. "No, this is my battle to fight."  
He sat down, contemplating what to do. The longer he thought, the more worried he got. What if he made the wrong choice? From what The Judge had said, it seemed that something was fatally wrong with his friend. Even if he did make the right choice, would he get there in time? Would he be too late? These questions, along with a million others, burned in his brain, his mind racing through all of the possible scenarios if he failed.  
Sighing, he wiped the sweat from his brow. _Sitting here isn't going to do anything, Batter,_ the puppeteer's voice echoed in his thoughts. _Make a choice. If you're wrong, pray that you can make it in time while running back and taking the other path._  
Heeding his puppet master's words, he decided to take the right path, praying to whatever gods existed that he made the right choice, and he wouldn't be too late.


	3. Chapter Two

The Batter held his breath as he entered the rightmost passageway, then realizing that he had been doing so, he let it out, holding his bat securely in his hand. Epsilon didn't take lead this time, and neither did Alpha or Omega, as if unsure of what to do, or hesitant, or even worried, though Batter didn't really think they had any emotions. He hoped that the path getting easier to traverse meant he was going the right direction, the glittering gems that lined the walls provided many fractured reflections, their concentration increasing as he went.  
Eventually he saw a light in the widening path, but at first he though his eyes were tricking him, that he was delirious with hope and fear. As he walked farther, however, he confirmed that the light _was_ in fact real, the illumination coming from a familiar circular shape. He slowed his pace, and as he moved even closer he could see a figure sitting in front of the Add-On's circumference. His breath hitched, had he finally reached his destination? Hesitantly, he called out, "Zacharie?"  
The figure moved slightly, it seemed he, or possibly she, or maybe even it, had turned his, or her, or its face to look at The Batter. The figure was silent, but as he moved closer, it seemed they had given up on hiding.  
"...So you've found me," said the figure, which was now undoubtedly Zacharie.  
Batter had to stop himself from breaking into a run, however he did quicken his pace as he walked towards the merchant. "What are you doing?"  
"You shouldn't be here. Not yet. It's too early for you. Come back later, the shop is closed," Zacharie told him, wanting him to leave before it was too late.  
"I don't care about that. What caused you to leave?" the purifier asked.  
He put a finger to the mouth of his mask. _"C'est un secret,_ Monsieur Batteur."  
There he goes again, with his inconceivable language. The puppet growled slightly, grasping Zacharie's wrist. He swore he flinched. "Tell me."  
_"Non,_ I cannot."  
He was just making the bat-wielder more and more aggravated, "Why not?"  
"'Tis a secret, my friend," he replied.  
He hissed, letting go of his friend's arm, "It seems that all you are is secrets."  
The two of them sat at opposite sides of the passage, refusing to allow themselves to look at each other. Then, it happened. Something changed.  
Something so insignificant normally wouldn't change so much. But with the tiniest puff of black smoke, everything had changed. The Batter's annoyed expression quickly changed to one of fear and concern, and he stared at the masked merchant. "What."  
Realizing what happened, Zacharie hissed, "Shit..."  
The Batter's face filled with fury, he knew why he had flinched when he grabbed his wrist. He snatched it up once more, pushing back the white sleeve. "You're infected!"  
Zach sighed, "This is why I wanted you to leave. If... If I turned, before you arrived, you wouldn't know it was me. I'd just be another random specter that you had to kill, er, purify." The masked merchant curled up into a ball, _"Je suis désolé, mon chéri..."_  
Batter had become surprisingly calm for what was happening. "You know what I have to do now, right?"  
Zacharie didn't move. "Do it. Kill me before I turn, at least I won't fight back." He could hear the tears in the merchant's voice.  
The purifier lifted his bat over his head. Zacharie braced himself for the impact, hoping it would be a painless death, for his friend's sake.  
But, instead of hearing a crack as the Lewis Bat collided with his skull, there was a pause, and then the sound of the metal clattering to the floor.  
The masked teen tilted his head in confusion, "Why...?"  
The Batter sat next to him, "It can wait."  
He nodded, then after a few shaky breaths, he asked, "Did you defeat Enoch?"  
Batter nodded, "I could not have done it without you. This bat was incredibly useful."  
His cat masked bobbed with his head as he nodded. "You're welcome. Believe it or not, it would have been more expensive had you been anyone else."  
He raised an eyebrow, "Oh?"  
_"Oui."_  
After a moment of silence, Zacharie spoke again, "I see you have acquired a new comrade, _mon ami._ You're not trying to replace me, are you?"  
"I could ask you the same thing," Batter replied, gesturing at the unknown Add-On floating by Zacharie's head.  
"Ah, I see you have noticed my glowing companion. These last few days, I've had companionship from Pablo, and this Add-On."  
The purifier tilted his head to the side, "By the way, you never told me who exactly this 'Pablo' is."  
"Ah, yes. Apologies, Monsieur Batteur. Forgive me for not explaining earlier. Pablo would be the one I believe you refer to as 'The Judge.'"

"Ah. That would explain why he knew you were here."  
Zacharie chuckled slightly. "So that's how you found me. _Putain de chat."_  
The pair sat in silence for a while. That is, until another puff of black smoke escaped Zacharie's lungs.  
The Batter knew his friend wouldn't have much time left. "Zacharie, may I ask you something."  
"...I suppose you may. Whether or not I answer depends on what the question is," the cat-masked teen finally replied.  
"Why do you wear those masks of yours?" the purifier asked.  
It seemed like an eternity before Zacharie finally answered. "I'm afraid that is one secret that I may end up taking to the grave."  
The Batter sighed, it seemed he may never get this question answered. Then, he remembered something. Something he came across back in Zone Two... A small smirk played across his lips.  
"When I was back in Zone Two, I read something about 'The Toad King.'"  
"Strange, I didn't take you for the type that would enjoy fairy tales, Monsieur Batteur," Zacharie replied.  
"It said that he was so mean and ugly that the members of that kingdom called him 'The Toad King.'"  
"Yes, what of it? Do you plan to bore your dying friend with fairy tale he already knows?" Though the purifier couldn't tell, the masked merchant began to feel uneasy, he hoped that The Batter wasn't going where he thought he was going with this.  
"The book also said that a hero struck him down with his own sword."  
"I still don't see the point of this," Zacharie hissed. "A hero is just a hero, Batter."  
"Yes, but it was a _masked_ hero." _Shit,_ Zacharie thought.  
"A hero is a hero, and fiction is fiction," the merchant replied, hoping that the purifier would listen to him.  
"I don't think this is a work of fiction, though. Not entirely. I've seen you fight, you use a sword. Is it perhaps, the sword you slayed The Toad King with?"  
Zacharie froze. "Shut up."  
"Zacharie, just what exactly lies beneath that mask of yours?" The purifier interrogated, knowing he had struck a nerve.  
"Please, just shut up."  
The Batter snuck his finger beneath the bottom of his mask, and as soon as he started pushing it up, Zacharie clamped his hands onto it, keeping it in place. "Don't."  
He snarled, ordering Alpha and Omega to hold the merchant's hands against the wall. Zach wheezed beneath the mask, "Please, Monsieur, don't!" It sounded as if he was crying now, "I beg of you, please, don't take it off!" More smoke poured out of his mouth, it seemed that stress quickened the process. The Batter didn't care, he needed to know, if his friend was going to die, he needed to know the secret he held beneath that mask. _"Ne l'enelève pas, mon amour, s'il te plaît, je t'en supplie!"_ He was now just babbling in French, it seemed that when he was stressed he would completely dip into his home language. The purifier pushed the mask all the way up and off, letting it clatter the floor.  
Everything seemed to go silent after that. Zacharie had his eyes sealed shut, tears streaming down his face, he hoped this was a bad dream, the last person he wanted to see his face was The Batter. However, at first glance, he didn't see anything wrong. He just seemed to be a very small Colossus. But then he realized the dark circles on his cheeks were not natural. They were holes, holes that had been carved into his face, by someone he could only describe as a monster if they had done this. Unless, of course, Zacharie had done it to himself. No, no, he wouldn't allow himself to believe this. He sat back down, dumbfounded. Alpha and Omega let go of the short teen's arms, floating back to The Batter, awaiting further instructions.  
The now maskless merchant curled up into a ball, sobbing into his knees, hoping this was just a horrible nightmare and he would wake up any minute. It had to be, this couldn't happen in the real world. He didn't mind dying, he didn't mind turning into a specter, but if he saw his face he would never be his friend again.  
"Z-Zacharie?" The voice of the usually rigid and emotionless Batter was now thick with emotion, what emotion it was Zacharie couldn't tell, but he knew it had to be hatred, no one could feel anything other that hatred towards him after seeing his face.  
_"Je suis désolé. Je suis tellement, tellement désolé."_  
Now Batter felt like a dick. He wanted to apologize, he didn't know how. He knew this would be stupid, but he didn't know what else to do. So he lifted the merchant's face up, and kissed him on his chapped lips, not caring about the constant stream of smoke gushing from his mouth. _"Je suis vraiment désolé."_


	4. Chapter Three

Zacharie pushed him away, taken aback by the kiss, as well as the sentence in French. "Monsieur?"  
The Batter's face was tinted pink with embarrassment, he had let his emotions get the better of him. "Um... Yes?"  
He tilted his head to the side, "Monsieur Batteur? Are... are you feeling alright?" There was no way that he could like him, not even platonically, not after seeing his hideous face, Zacharie knew that no one could bear to so much look at him again, much less _kiss_ him. So why had Batter? Something must have been wrong with him, he had to be sick, he had to have some form of affliction to cause him to do so.  
"Yes, I feel perfectly fine. Thank you for asking," he replied.  
"Are... Are you sure? There must be some reason... some reason for... _that,"_  
"What ever do you mean, Zacharie?"  
"Why would you ever even think about... kissing me... after seeing my..." he paused, "After seeing my horribly disgusting face?" He was on the brink of tears again, he needed an answer to this question, it didn't matter what the answer was, as long as he had an answer he would be fine. Black smoke was still pouring from his lungs.  
"It was an apology," he answered.  
Zacharie nodded "Ah, _merci."_ He wasn't sure if he was glad he had not corrected him on the appearance of his face. "Though, I must ask, what was the apology for?"  
"For removing the mask against your will," The Batter explained.  
_Ah, so he was apologizing for even seeing it._ C'était à prévoir, Zacharie thought to himself. He was okay with that.  
"However, I must disagree with you on one front," the purifier added.  
Strangely, it was when someone told him that he _wasn't_ hideous that bothered him. "And what front would that be, Monsieur Batteur?" the merchant asked.  
"I do not find your face horribly disgusting, nor even moderately so."  
Zacharie froze. "You... What?"  
He hated when this happened. He should be glad, but he had been hiding behind a protective wall of self loathing for so long that when someone told him he wasn't ugly, or disgusting, or hideous in _some_ way, his whole world fell apart.  
The Batter repeated himself, "I do not find your face disgusting. Not in the slightest."  
The merchant tilted his head to the side, "You're kidding, right?"  
"No, I am not."  
"You... You're... Y-you're lying."  
The Batter shook his head, "I do not lie."  
"You're lying! I know you are, no one can possibly believe I'm not ugly!" Zacharie yelled, more smoke spilling out from lungs.  
"I do not lie," he repeated, "lying is impure."  
_"Vous mentez!"_ the now crying merchant shouted. _"Vous mentez, vous mentez, vous mentez, vous mentez, vous mentez, vous mentez!"_ he repeated over and over, a majority of his veins were now black, the blood of specters coursing through them.  
"Zacharie, I do not lie. And I would never lie to you, especially not on this subject."  
_"Vous ne mentez pas...?"_  
_"Non,_ I am not."  
Zacharie coughed, _"Merci..."_  
The Batter sat back down, the coughing meant he was nearing full transformation. He laced his arm around Zacharie, "Lean on me. Do not strain yourself."  
He did so, coughing again, _"Merci,_ Monsieur Batteur. _Merci..."_

Smoke was now constantly trailing out of the merchant's lungs, making it a little difficult for The Batter to breathe, but he ignored it. All he wanted to do was to make his friend's final moments good ones. He though of something.  
"Zacharie, do you remember the music box you asked me for in Zone Three, in exchange for some information?"  
He nodded slighly, _"Oui._ What about it, _mon chéri?"_  
Batter pulled it out from his inventory. "I know it's probably useful for something important later, but I want you to have it."  
The merchant took it, "Ah, _merci."_ Then after a minute or two, "Price?"  
The purifier shook his head, "No price. It's free of charge."  
Zacharie grinned weakly, "Come on, there must be something you want, _non?_ Another piece of information, perhaps?"  
The Batter thought for a moment. There was still one more mystery to be solved. One that he could not solve without Zacharie.  
"You do not have to answer me if you do not wish to, but I have one more question to ask of you."  
_"Oui,_ I knew you had one more question for me. Now, what would you ask of me? Perhaps for a new bat, free of charge?"  
_"Non,_ though that does sound enticing. But I am afraid I have something far more grave to ask you about." The Batter sighed, "Would you be so kind as to tell me how you got those injuries?"  
"I don't think the music box is enough to pay for the answer to that..." Zacharie replied, then uttered his own sigh. "But you deserve to know. You'll have to pay me back with an answer to a question of my own."  
Batter was relieved that he would still hear the story, and wondered what he would ask in return.  
"Apologies if i have to pause in the middle of my story, my lungs seem to be slowly betraying me," he warned.  
"No need to apologize, Zacharie. Go on, stop as many times as you need," The Batter replied.  
Zacharie sighed, and began his tale. "Yes, the story of The Toad King is true. It is lacking in detail, however, it did not explain that he had a son, or that the son mysteriously disappeared after the incident. Nor did it explain the true motive of this hero. One day, the King got pissed with all the mutinies, and the fact that even his son was prettier than he. He refused to believe that he was ugly, instead he thought his frog-like face was beautiful. The Bestial King went up to his son one day, angry with his kingdom, angry with his subjects, angry with his family, he took his sword from the practice dummy's chest, approaching his son with the sword. He told him that he would make him beautiful, and without another word, he drove the sword through both of his cheeks at once, twisting it until the wounds became wide circles similar to those of his own..." After uttering the last sentence, he broke into a coughing fit. The Batter told him he didn't have to continue, but Zacharie shook his head, saying that he wasn't finished yet. "After that day, when it reached nightfall, the son donned the only hooded piece of clothing he had, hoping it would hide him despite its white color. He stole about three billion credits, as well as the best horse the king owned, and rode to the local mask salesman. He asked for the best mask he had, and thrusted a third of the credits he had stolen from his father at him. 'Prince?' the man asked, but the prince cut him off, telling him he could keep the change if he kept this operation a secret. The salesman greedily accepted, and the next morning the prince slew his father with his own sword, taking the sword with him. The kingdom cheered, but he did not care. He had gotten his revenge, and that was it," Zacharie finished, breathing heavily.  
"So now you know. I am the Toad Prince."  
"Try not to talk. It's only speeding the transformation process up further," The Batter directed.  
"Don't think you can silence me just yet, Monsieur Batteur. I still have one more question to ask of you," the merchant wheezed.  
The purifier sighed, "Alright, fine. What is your question?"  
Zacharie closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. He was going to do this and he was going to die who knows how soon afterwards, but he was going to do this.  
"Well?" Batter inquired.  
"What..." he breathed. "What are your feelings towards me?"  
"My... What?" the purifier asked, taken aback.  
Zacharie took another long, wheezing breath. "Hhh... do... do you like me? And... I don't mean platonically."  
"I... Yes, yes I do," The Batter replied, hesitating at first. "Very much so."  
"Hhh... Then... you won't mind if I do this?" he questioned, pushing himself up to kiss him.  
He chuckled, "No, I wouldn't," he responding, kissing him back. At that moment, neither of them cared about Zacharie's health, or the black smoke that was rapidly escaping the prince's lungs through the holes in his cheeks. All the two of them cared about was this moment, the feeling of a wet tongue intruding into their mouths, exploring them, their two tongues twirled around each other wrestling for dominance.  
But then the moment was interrupted with a string of long coughs. "Batter...?"  
"Yes?" He immediately replied.  
"I don't have much time left... Do you think we could listen to the music box? I haven't heard it in such a long time..." Zacharie asked.  
"Of course." The Batter picked up the music box, turning the key as far as it could go.  
Soft, beautiful music began playing, unlike any he'd ever heard before. At first the moment seemed too perfect, too serene. Zacharie was is his lap, resting his head on his shoulder. The purifier gently stroked the merchant's back, as well as running his hands through his soft, curly black hair.  
But this scene of serenity quickly turned to one of absolute terror. Zacharie was coughing again, harder than before. There were no longer pauses between each cough, a thick liquid spattered onto the purifier, a liquid he quickly recognized as blood. Tears were streaming down The Batter's face, he shouldn't feel this much emotion, he knew this would happen. But he loved this boy. He loved him and he hated himself for it but he loved him all the same. It pained him to see his dear friend this way, his beloved more than a friend, he didn't want him to suffer, yet the only way to end his suffering was to kill him right then and there. He was screaming in pain and his body was writhing and contorting into shapes they should never had been in, smoke coursing through his veins, replacing the oxygen that had once been there. White wings tore from his back, his eyes bulged at the pain, he was screaming, "Please, kill me!" but The Batter could not, he could not bring himself to kill his more than a friend, not until he had fully turned, until he truly was a monster with no soul. The music was still playing, it was sickeningly sweet, as if mocking the two of them, and he smashed it with his bat, he couldn't take its mockery.  
Zacharie tried all his might to stay calm, to send his final dying message to his dear Batter, and he realized all to late that he had spoken in French, and he hoped there was a god and that he or she would hear his prayer and let The Batter understand.

** _"Je t'aime!"_ **


	5. Chapter Four

The Batter stared down at the blood on his shirt. It belonged to his friend. His more than a friend. His closet, dearest friend.  
And he had killed him. He no longer made any differentiation between "kill" and "purify." He did not care anymore.  
Zacharie was either the toughest specter in the world, or he had such a hard time destroying him because he was someone that he cared about. Or possibly both. At the very least, he had left his stupid cat mask behind, so he still had something to remember him by.  
After purifying him, nothing seemed to matter anymore. He simply did not care.  
He killed the Guardian of this desolate zone, for a Fury he was surprisingly easy to take down. Then again, living off of sugar and coconut milk could leave anyone weak, especially when they had no one to talk to.  
He felt a pang when he killed Sucre in Zone Zero, her comment about Zacharie as she died made him wonder what had happened between them. But he did not care. Not really. His closest friend was dead, purified with all the rest, and that's all that mattered. He did not care as he struck down Vader, he did not care as he mercilessly slew Hugo.  
And he did not care about The Judge's little speech. It was a blur really, though it seemed his puppeteer was unsure of whether or not to help The Batter still. Perhaps, if his friend were not dead, he would have pleaded with the player to stay with him, but his friend, his more than a friend, his dear, beloved Zacharie, was dead, and he could not possibly care any less what the player was thinking. He still killed the cat, with or without the player.  
And he smiled as he put his hand on the lever, remembering something Zacharie would often say in the shop, "You break it, you buy it, _mon ami."_  
Perhaps this lever lead to a new world, in which he could meet Zacharie once more. He grinned at the the thought of what he would do to him once he got his hands on him. Just the mere thought of curling his claws around the merchant's neck and spattering his blood across the floor sent a shiver down his spine.  
After all, he had broken The Batter's heart, and had yet to pay the price.


End file.
